


Encore

by Shocotate



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Clothed Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Gentle Sex, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Libraries, Library Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pride is older than he looks, Sibling Incest, Table Sex, Tentacles, Vaginal Sex, and can make his container look older
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shocotate/pseuds/Shocotate
Summary: “We already set one library on fire tonight,” He felt again, her warmth burbling along to his internal shade, so fierce Pride allowed himself the excess of breathing, just a single sigh. His wide shadow eyes flowed around her fingers and as they faded he caught the victorious curve in her full lips, determined to wring more from him. “how about an encore?”In the wake of the arson at the First Branch, Pride and Lust meet up in their own library.
Relationships: Lust/Pride (Selim Bradley)
Kudos: 13





	Encore

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my other fic Fireside Chats, but reading it is not necessary to understand this fic. It is set the night Lust burns down the First Branch library in Central, between episodes 6 and 7.
> 
> Also, Pride is over 350 years old despite how he looks and in canon is capable of stretching his container to look older sometimes, and so shall be in an adult form for this fic.
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta-reader Violetlight :)

_I will inform Father of this before I return East._

_Though, perhaps I ought to indulge in some_ _actual_ _reading before sunrise, as well._

Pride knew where Lust would wait for him, a welcome diversion from his game of house. Far better he spent these precious hours in his true home than simply sleeping and waiting for Wrath’s wife to wake him.

His sleeve drooped down again, far below his wrist, and as he padded though the familiar hallway he readjusted it, folding it many times over. His short trousers almost resembled their long forms, held up only by the braces beneath his equally oversized waistcoat. ‘Mother’ somehow never questioned how the outfit ended up in _dear Selim’s_ wardrobe; perhaps she thought it a blunder on her husband’s part, ordering by size rather than age instead of getting his measurements, or as part of his eccentricity. It was all necessary, really, and the thought sent a tiny thrill through his container and out into his trailing shadows as he stepped into the library. Even with Envy and Gluttony elsewhere, he doubted they had ever visited it.

Wide bookshelves lined the left and back wall, Lust’s grey coat hooked on the hanger between them, and in each corner several tall candles burned bright in their holders, bathing the small room in a rich glow, more cosy than cramped. Whether Lust had changed them herself, or it had been so long since the library had been occupied that they had scarcely burnt down he could not be certain.

On the right lay a pair of upholstered armchairs with a writing desk between them, a lone ink bottle upon it, and in the centre a low oak table at a height that Pride could comfortably stand and read within his container. His sister sat atop it, rather than on the chairs, a tome on her lap, and several others dotted around her. Most were coated in a substantial layer of dust from their disuse.

**“Hello again, Lust.”**

Pride brushed the dust away with his shadows, and Lust watched it briefly before following it along to his container. No doubt she _knew_ from one glance at his baggy clothing, but did not remark on it.

“Good evening, Brother, or should that be ‘good morning’ now? And look, I came bearing a gift,” Lust lifted the open tome for emphasis, almost showing it off. “from the _long lost_ First Branch.” She added with a wink.

 **“Marcoh’s notes?”** Had Lust managed to locate them after all, as the library was burning? Pride considered the novelty of the concept, that their _dear_ Sacrifice would come again to grace Central with his tiny presence and find only ashes, while below the book remained far out of his reach in their library, to be destroyed ‘again’ at their leisure. It had its perks, to be sure.

Lust shook her head, “Something better. Something we can actually add to the collection.” She held the cover up for him to see more clearly.

_Xerxian Alchemy; Annotated Edition IV, 1851_

**“I think not, we have this one already.”**

“The original, yes, but not _this_ one. We should compare them.”

Pride thought of it, the original, one of Father’s first gifts when they had formed what became purely _their_ library, part of his own personal collection from Xerxes. To the scholars of the past the tome was but a drop into the depths of alchemical theory, but to pathetic Amestrian alchemists it was so intricate they could never hope to understand it. Only Father was permitted to _create_ , but as the book covered only the basics Lust and he had spent their youths poring over it, learning of the circulation of power.

 **“Surely you could have spent that time finding _Marcoh’s notes_ , instead.” **Pride said dryly, smiling a little. Teeth bled along his shadow, too.

“Yes, how _dare_ my eyes be drawn to something worthwhile…also it was on the front desk,” she shrugged.

**“Very well, we shall see if this one is worth retaining. Now, where is the original?”**

“Right here,” Lust patted the tome at her side gently, scattering more dust. She eased it away and patted the space beside her instead.

The candles shivered as he entered, and his spilled shadow wavered over the walls like water. Forgoing the chairs as well, Pride hopped up onto the table, shuffling to sit beside her and lifting the older of the two volumes onto his lap.

Lust smiled, laid the book against her crossed legs and returned to her place.

The two homunculi huddled together in the hush of their library, a quiet comment occasionally passing between them, remarking on a mistranslation or two, comparing each page and symbol. Their spare hands settled in the space between them. Finding each other, his thumb began to absently stroke the indents of her node and her pulse pushed against him. She hummed, squeezing in return.

**“Look here, on page 28. Does yours have the glyph for ‘gold’ on the centre diagram?”**

“It does, but the image has been copied _terribly_ , so it’s hard to read -- hm, but the annotation says ‘silver’ instead **.”**

**“What an amateur mistake. Embarrassing.”**

“Hmm, are you sure this wasn’t ‘one of ours’ then?” she suggested. They exchanged books and he examined it. It was a possibility, some corrupt and long forgotten scholar with a distaste for alchemy, or swayed more by money than truth, leading the humans astray through so many ‘mistakes’, Alkahestry likewise, though such a minor alchemy didn’t deserve to be spoken of at all.

**“I doubt it. Hence, it has no place here.”**

“But _Brother_ , the collection must expand somehow! Has there been anything since our play?”

 **“Of course there has,”** Pride drawled with a finality that said he would not specify _what_ , if it was true at all. The elder thought back to those couple of decades before, of what was decidedly _their_ play, of the elaborate Xingese costuming through the smoke and dust and perfume. Their obligations would have never allowed them to attend the near _seven hundred_ times, but procuring a copy of the script was enough, for now; the whimsical songs of flirting, bloodthirst and executions rang a little in his mind before he pushed it aside with something of a wistful smile. Perhaps they could make an exception and allow those new ‘records’ into the library, if only for that.

“The Xerxian is still correct; we can annotate it properly,” she offered with one of her prim, minute smiles.

 **“Perhaps. Regardless, I wonder how many prospective alchemists have been filling their heads with nonsense from this.”** Out of curiosity Pride flicked to the front and counted out the stamps. Hm, no wonder it was on the front desk, this was meant to be in stored in the _Main_ Branch. He laid it down on the closest stack of books before turning to her fully. “ **Speaking of which, did Marcoh state anything else of interest during your ‘discussion’?**

“Not really, though, he _tried_ not cooperating. I showed him the _error_ of his ways.”

A ripple ran through Pride’s shadows atop the desk.

 **“Not too much, I hope,”** One split off into a small, toothy tendril, rested over Lust’s thigh, **“humans are so fragile.”** and he bit down, just a teasing nip. She tensed under him, sparks revealing flushed skin beneath his mouth, so many pretty splotches blooming around his teeth. His sister’s gasp trailed off into a quiet laugh in her throat. Lust uncrossed her legs and, setting the book aside, she reached down and rubbed between the two eyes his shadow grew.

“That they are,” she said, while Pride felt her soft red fingertips dipping into him, the teasing crescents of her retracted Lance just _barely_ raking across the deeper layer of his liquid flesh. It _felt_ again, her warmth burbling along to his internal shade, so fierce Pride allowed himself the excess of breathing, just a single sigh. His wide shadow eyes flowed around her fingers and as they faded he caught the victorious curve in her full lips, determined to wring more from him. “but Marcoh’s well enough, still in one piece. He won’t be troubling us until he’s taking up one of the cells. They’re so easy to manipulate, it’s almost sad.”

She chuckled, and through his container Pride watched the bloom spread, peeking out from under her dress and upwards until it framed her Ouroboros. He remembered their snatched moments together during his previous missions, their nights pressed close and him gazing into it, and how the flush covered every inch of her when she—

Sparking again, her ‘dress’ reformed _over_ him, the purple undersides flopping down on his scolding grin, warm, as much a part of her. Shifting, he spilled into the gap between her thighs and found her bare. She gasped again. He needn’t open any eyes to know the _want_ glistening there. It glittered deep, deep in her eyes that gazed down at him, desiring only him.

 **“Your room or mine?”** he asked, already unrolling his oversized sleeves and trousers. They’d played coy long enough, anyway.

“ _Ours_ ,” she breathed without missing a beat. As if to demonstrate, Lust pushed further to the table’s edge, parting her thighs and he could do nothing but agree. “We already set _one_ library on fire tonight,” _Shrrkt!_ Her hand snapped, nails growing in turn as if opening a fan, “how about an encore?”

Nodding, Pride brought the shadows back into himself for a moment, while his container slackened, drooping like a doll with too little stuffing as its body lengthened, its limbs grew. Inside, his True Form lost its shape and swirled aimlessly, reveling in the peculiar sensation, until he filled out the space.

His sister reached out, easing him through it, pressing soft kisses into his hair, her own glowing in the blend of the firelight and his seldom seen sparks. They were nothing like ‘Mother’s’, lacking all the taint of humanity, each one sending pinpricks into him, by degrees stoking her Sin within him.

Soon enough his True Form spread marginally thinner into his new, temporary shape. With a wide, arcing tendril rising behind him, Pride sat up straight and returned the favour, kissing her forehead lightly, at a height with her for once, face buried in her silken strands rather than her chest (though that was good, too). He watched her shiver from the touch, her thighs rubbing together and regarded her for a moment longer, to observe his sibling, the incarnation of Lust already so desperate from such fleeting touches. Always the same and yet Pride savoured each one of them.

The breath in his shadow deepened, more mouths falling open as a sigh crested into his own hushed moan. His human hands bunched in her hair. The darkness sloshed in the hollow of his stomach, twisting into a loose coil and shuddering with low, wanting heat.

Of course, their Sins had dripped into each other long ago, and truly Lust was the only one he would _allow_ to make him feel this way.

Suddenly, as his kisses inched lower Pride slipped off the table, falling the much shorter distance with a thump, but landing on his feet; he settled squarely between her knees, purely _intentional_. The table did not budge at all; her dress fanned out in elegant ripples, the split higher and tinged a deep red where it caught the light. Idly, Pride wondered if the substance of her dress could flush, too.

 **“You smell of smoke.”** his arced shadow mused from over her head, almost behind her. His eyes peered down at his altered shape, their limbs tangling, almost one again. Pride shivered anew at the thought. Soon, he knew. **  
**

“I wonder why.” Her mix of a breathy laugh and a whimper burned against his ear, her nails grazing his cheeks and tugging him back to her waiting lips. Every part of her burned him, hotter than the still smouldering fire above, hotter than he thought possible.

Pride traced out the Xerxian glyph from before in the roof of her mouth, the shadow in his tongue straining to absorb every touch. Would that his shadow could burst up from his throat and taste her strange fire directly. He could do it, what were a couple more tongues? The temptation quivered in him like heartburn. The shadow behind loosed a dozen long, watery stems, wrapping her ankles, coating her neck and her breasts, no eyes or teeth, only feeling. Humans knew no better, but the idea of only possessing _two_ hands…how could it ever be enough?

Her nails drew patterns over his waistcoat, gentle enough to not tear the fabric. Of course, Lust’s hands were not _human_ hands. The scattered pools of him rushed up with dizzying intensity to meet them from inside, pressing against her fingertips.

While their kiss deepened, his shadow likewise delved into her slick, silky flesh, until Lust jolted against him when his idle fingers nudged that spot within her - a curious thing, even after so long; some facet of human evolution to encourage breeding. Disgusting. Though, with her legs clamping around him, Pride could not dismiss its ‘benefits’ completely. Her liquid lapped against his, his blunted shade grazing her ever so gently.

 **“So much already?”** he asked once they parted, the shadow retreating with him. Raising it, the fluid spread thick between his splayed claws, dissolving as it dripped from them. **“Such a wanton thing.”** he smirked. His container’s hands rested on her knees, holding her legs open.

“What can I say?” Lust managed between her soft pants, masking whatever whine that might have hummed in her chest at the loss. “I’ve missed you.” She wiped her mouth, before setting her hands behind her lest she topple over. Her heels ran up and down his back, shadows dangling from them.

Pride brushed a strand of hair from her face with his tendril, tucking it behind her ear. **“I know.”** It had been too long. Pride truly felt her again, not out his bleary eyes in the Tunnel, his muted touches, her voice echoing. Though, he thought of her then, almost bathing in him with her Spears buried to the wrists, now _that_ …

“Getting ahead of yourself?” She purred when his clothed waist bumped her.

Pride huffed in mock disgust, he had not _forgotten_. Of course not. It was the game they played; she knew it no more sensitive than the rest of him, less so, but still reached for him, unbuttoning his short trousers, teasing as if he could be teased. He obliged her, a thicker length of his internal shade flowing down and soaking up her warmth, clasped between her crimson palms,

“There we go,” and she smirked with renewed triumph, showing her teeth and drawing another obscene noise from him. His countless hands slid over her, but she kept her gasps and her whines hushed, preserving the sanctity of their library. With each one she jerked him closer, his false hands slid from her knees, up further and further until they were almost joined, clutching the flesh at her hips, but something felt – wrong.

 **“What?”** Pride pulled away, blinking, frowning. The soft rise of her stomach seemed identical even through his shadow’s perfect eyes, yet unknown to him. He stroked over it with his thumb, absorbing the fresh sensations in his altered skin. Their regeneration was flawless, but the new skin still held a different texture, a wide circle from just above her hipbone, across her stomach, something fatal. How could--

Hissing, his shadow grew more eyes to glare at her fur trimmed coat still hooked near the bookcase, and teeth only to grind.

 _Dr Marcoh._

The blight of the tear wavered dully in the candlelight.

 _He_ tried _not cooperating…_

 **“What is this? What happened?”** His shadows demanded through narrowed eyes and grinding teeth. How could she let this happen?

“It was nothing,” Lust scoffed between her slowing breaths, legs closing, tensing more in frustration. “Such a _pedestrian_ thing he used, too.” Extending one nail, she drew an unfamiliar transmutation circle into him – a circle holding a square; a simple thing, yet enough to kill her… Not that it mattered, of course. Lust had obtained his research and no doubt it flitted on the night air as ash along with the rest of the First Branch. Father would be pleased, once he woke. Nothing else mattered.

 **“Truly humans know nothing without our guidance,”** Pride snickered, his shadow’s eyes and teeth fading. How could a human blessed with knowledge of the Stone even _think_ he could best them? They never learned. **“Marcoh shall be taught his place soon enough.”**

“Lovely,” Lust had calmed enough to smile. “And this?” Her hand played along the edge of her ‘wound’, her hair slipping over her shoulder. “It went all the way through, you know.”

 **“You are mine.”** Pride whispered, all his shadows flaring. Withdrawing his container’s hand, his shadow caressed and wrapped the new flesh, reclaiming it as he had claimed the rest of her so long ago. **“Every part of you is mine.”**

Something flickered in her eyes, until her smile sharpened into one of her deadly, beautiful smirks as her legs caged him again, digging teasingly into his back, guiding him closer. So, so close.

“And you are mine.” Lust moaned as she drew him into her, agonisingly slow. “M-Mine…My Pride…aah…” His tendrils flooded along where they were joined, slithering, stroking, almost convulsing with the jolts of heat pulsing through them, beyond anything humans could concoct. He was better. _They_ were better.

Lust’s mouth fell open as her eyes slid shut, her neck flushed, back arching. Her obsidian tresses bounced atop her shoulders with each breath, attuned to the rhythm her trembling legs played against his back, easing him in and out and deeper, and all the while his shadowy claws stroked and _felt_.

“P-Pride…” She breathed it like a prayer, over and over from her full, flawless lips and he needn’t hear anything else again. Her Lances grew; they curled in ecstasy, slicing through him and thankfully not the antique wood beneath. Pride almost scolded her, but all his helpless mouth did was moan, his insides cramped and twisted and grew so many clicking teeth his whole body shook. The coil throbbed, a second Stone in his belly, in time with his own and with hers.

At last, her lids fluttered open, her eyes blown wide with the purest form of her Sin, clouded yet shining. Pride gasped, pressing further, deeper into her, feeling every hot, wanting twitch while his arced shadow trembled like it was melting, her fire burning too bright in him. Even undone like this she was perfect, perhaps more so. So many eyes bubbled to the surface of his boiling shade, drinking in all of her until they squeezed shut, overwhelmed by sensation. Their identical eyes met and shimmered, her chest heaved, her Ouroboros almost glowed. His knees gave in, but Lust caught him, her heels shoving up his waistcoat as she crushed him to the hilt in her and _squeezed_.

The coil snapped, bursting into molten light, and his darkness splashed across the floor and the walls as if to escape it. Through the brilliant haze in his eyes he found her, or she found him. They gulped down each other’s cries, fused from mouth to hip, his hands wrapped over her, hers over him. Pride thought of nothing else. He wanted nothing else.

They were one.

When the light in him died down he realised they must have fallen, slumped down over the desk. No matter, it had withstood far more books in its time than their weight could hope to match.

He saw her through his blurred vision, felt her beside him, his insides still fizzing pleasantly, teeth still chattering.

 **“Lust…Lust…”** His voice quavered.

"Mmm…Are you purring?” Lust wiped a tear from his cheek, her Lances fully extended, her pure, true form, giggling between her long, satisfied sighs. “I love it when you purr." She kissed his eyes and despite his larger shape he wanted to nestle against her, let her curl around him. “I love…” She trailed off when his listless, purring shadows draped over her like all the times before, bathing in the promise of sleep before the warmth left them.

Only their mingling breaths lingered between them, no disgusting mess that humans left in their couplings. As in all things, they were above them. A few sparse flashes of red passed over his sister as she readjusted her dress, and recalled to himself Pride buttoned up his trousers. No trace would remain of this, except, perhaps…

 **“The book can stay.”** his sister’s ‘gift’, a memento of the fire, and of this. **“For now.”**

 _For we cannot,_ some part of his mind whispered, his obligations slowly seeping into him. The temptation to sleep tugged at him, too, and Pride forced himself upright, fearing if he closed his eyes he might wake to some countrywide panic at _poor Selim_ being found out of bed. Lust mumbled something in response as he slipped the book back onto his lap, watching his sleeves droop over his fingers, his feet dangling more easily over the edge. As his container shrank, the smaller space eased his still quivering shadows into a comforting stillness and he exhaled softly.

Suddenly the table shook, enough that Pride started.

 **“Huh?”** Through their ‘activities’ it had held firm, so what could –

He turned to find Lust knelt up on the desk, reaching precariously over the stack of books and grasping for the ink bottle on the smaller end table **“Lust…What are you doing?”**

“Well, we’ll fix all those -- hey!” She swatted at his shadow that stretched alongside her, cutting it right off just as his claws closed over the bottle. “‘Mistakes’ once I’m back, but we simply _must_ take credit for our first revision now. Turn to the front page, will you?” Finally procuring it, Lust settled down beside him again.

_Annotated by--_

A single flick of her hand sliced out the name of the human at the bottom, and she offered the open bottle to him.

“We’ll do the rest later.”

 **“That will take an eternity, I’m sure.”** Pride drawled, dipping a new claw into the ink, forming the effortless, elegant loops of his name upon the page in one clean stroke. The liquid went unseen against his own inky form, and Pride hastily licked his container’s palm, cleaning it off lest he end up staining his teeth or swallowing it when he inevitably formed it into a mouth.

“It’s a date, then.”

Pride heard the smile in her voice; he watched her reach down, her Lance pressing into the page without tearing it, tracing out her own delicate strokes that bled into the paper.

_Pride & Lust_

The ink shimmered in the firelight much like their own darkness, and he inclined his head under hers, stretching out the moment for as long as possible.

They nestled together, not _Selim_ , not _Solaris_ , not the Eldest. Just themselves, until the ink dried.


End file.
